Singing Heart (10 page)

*****

He was waiting for her. Alone. Taking her on to his lap he held her humming some strange song. She knew he was trying to heal her. Could feel the strength in his body radiate to hers. She allowed herself to remain limp in his arms absorbing the energy he was circulating between their bodies. Unafraid she trusted him to hold her until she could stand alone. He didn’t even seem to care that blood seeped between her thighs spreading across the blanket he wore around his waist.

*****

She was unconscious nearly three days. If anyone thought it was odd that she didn’t ask for her husband the moment she was lucid they politely refrained from commenting on it. In her delirium Amanda and several other neighbor women who had taken turns sitting with the young girl had figured out exactly what had been going on since she married Brett Colby. Some shuddered realizing it could have been one of their daughter’s laying lying here in this predicament. Brett had been a very desirable match until now. It had broken several hearts when he married seemingly out of the blue.

The shock of losing her baby and nearly dying herself was enough for any young bride to handle. Since Xzan never asked about Brett no one volunteered any information. They took turns sitting with her in the following weeks. Spooning broth into her parched lips and reading to her to take her mind off the pain she was suffering. Her bleeding had stopped completely but she was too weak and breathless to rise from her bed. She had starved and worked herself too hard during the pregnancy. It was as if there was no strength left to sustain her. She looked like a frightened doe every time she heard the sound of hooves in the driveway. Would pluck at the corners of her quilt agitatedly. One morning Cecile couldn’t stand it any longer.

“
Mother you have to tell her. Can’t you see she’s half out of her mind with fear?”

Amanda Stark shushed her daughter loudly. Xzan wasn’t ready to be ignored after that impassioned outcry.

“
Tell me what Cecile?”

Amanda eyed her pensively, debating. Saw for the first time that there was a hint of color in those delicate cheeks and some will in the way she raised herself up in the bed. She sighed, sat beside her taking Xzan’s small hands into her own.

“
You’ve been through so much. We didn’t think your heart could handle anymore shock. But after nursing you all this time when you were half out of your mind with fever seeing the evidence of his abuse…No don’t try to deny it dear… you have nothing to fear any longer. Your husband won’t be coming back. This is your home now.”

Xzan caught her breath in hope then anxiety. Begging the other woman silently with hopeful eyes she ventured.

“
What do you mean?”

Kindly brown eyes peered back in triumph. “He was drunk. Cheating at the gaming tables. He drew his pistol on one of the men. Was shot when the other man defended himself. He’s dead. Brett Colby will never hurt you again.”

Chapter Four

“
Are you sure you won’t reconsider? I’m sure your family would want you to come back home. They could help you find a suitable match when you’re ready. This is such a dangerous journey with no guarantees that you will ever make it safely to your destination.” The slender young man with the lank brown hair and puppy dog eyes beseeched her mournfully.

Xzan patted his arm reassuringly.

“
Thank you for your concern Mr. Monroe. But truly…it is misplaced. I have no desire to ever… marry… anyone else. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve already purchased the house in Sweetbriar. The town has hired me as their schoolmarm.”

She smiled disarmingly up at the man, continuing.

“
I’m not as delicate as I look. I will survive the passage. I’ll write to let you know how silly your fears have been for my safety as soon as I get settled in.”

Charles Monroe still suffered pangs of guilt. There was no way for him to know that his unintentional role in Brett’s death had given Xzan the freedom to live. To follow the dreams she’d had since early childhood. She would not enlighten him now. The gentleman had come to her aid in a man’s world helping her settle Brett’s debts. He’d overseen the sale of the house. Had located the travel agents that had found a new home and employment for her abroad in the Americas. At the moment he was securing her trunks aboard the ship that would take her far from the memories she was intent on putting behind her.

She had written her family just this morning. Letting them know of Brett’s demise as well as her own destination. By the time they received it there would be no way they could intercept her journey. It had been three months since Amanda Stark gave her the news that had changed her life. She explained in her parent’s letter that she had been deathly ill after losing her child and then in shock over her husband’s demise and it had taken this long to discuss it. The truth was she had done everything in her power to speed up her flight and get well praying that they wouldn’t hear the news via the grapevine before she was at a safe distance. She would never again allow her father or any man to control her destiny. The thought of Papa pawning her off on another monster was an outrage she was determined to avoid at any cost.

In the past few months Charles Monroe, Amanda and Cecile Stark and several other neighbors had come to her rescue educating her on the legalities involved in inheriting her husband’s estate. Despite the fact that Nicolas Colby’s fortune has reverted to charity Brett had quite a substantial bit of his own thanks to his tight fist and business acumen. The remainder when all debts were paid in full still left Xzan with a hefty nest egg of her own. With a job already secured once she reached her new home she would be set for the rest of her life financially.

Mr. Monroe had helped her open a bank account. Unbeknownst to him or anyone else there was a tidy sum of cash sewn inconspicuously in the hem of her petticoats. In case she had unforeseen problems along the way she wouldn’t be waylaid by having to wait for her funds to be transferred to another bank. Nor would she be at the mercy of anyone.

Since deciding on a course of action Xzan had studied everything she could find about the area she was headed for. She’d heard the horror stories as everyone had. She believed it was a perilous undertaking. Most of the people who headed west never even reached it due to the elements, Indian attacks, illnesses, ignorance, lack of proper supplies or money and countless other misfortunes. She also knew that compared to the beatings she had endured the past few years that the possibility of seasickness aboard ship or sleeping under a wagon in the dead of winter sounded more like a discomfort than a death threat.

Above all else she felt drawn west. She had the “Call of the Wild” as she’d seen it described in books. Men carried guns for protection as well as to hunt for food for their families. Females were scarce, looked upon as gold. Their lives were incredibly rough. Women often died young either in childbirth or they just plain worked themselves to death. Children had to pull their own weight along side their parents often going hungry until the evening meal. There was never enough shoes, clothing or quilts. Women hosted quilting bees to help each other and to the fill the lonely gap between visitors. Men had barn raising to give their neighbors a start. All in all if you could brave the bitter cold, blistering heat, grow crops, herd cattle, get past thieves, gold diggers and keep from being scalped by the Indians you might survive long enough to enjoy the magnificence of the wilderness. It was said to go on forever. It couldn’t be done justice except by the naked eye.

Xzan was going to see it for herself. Hard work was no stranger to her. The idea of teaching children who might otherwise never have a chance for an education made her feel needed. She knew exactly what she was getting in to. As Mr. Monroe aided her step up on the gangplank she handed him the letter asking him sweetly if he would post if for her. The man was delighted to be of service hoped to receive one of his own very soon. She boarded ship turning to wave fondly at him suddenly feeling a little lost now that she was in actuality totally alone from now on. Xzan hadn’t cried since the night her daughter died. Now the tears unexpectedly threatened to spill stinging her eyelids. She was so relieved to be on her way truly free at last that one fat tear trickled unheeded down her cheek.

That was his first sight of Xzan Colby. A frail flower swaying delicately in the wind. The salty ocean breeze whipping glossy ringlets wildly against a tiny waist vivid blue eyes luminous with an emotion too deep to share. She looked unrequitedly sad, vulnerable standing there alone. He wondered what she was doing aboard. Where she was headed. A funny feeling settled in his gut. The desire to protect her.

Grown ups were supposed to protect children. Not the other way around. He was only thirteen. When he felt lost he turned to his mother. So why did he have this urge to take care of a girl who was older, already grown? He’d have to chaw that one awhile. For now his father was calling him to join the family in their cabin. He’d have to ponder later.

*****

Xzan wrinkled her nose in disgust as she opened her cabin door.

“
Phew!” she exclaimed as the putrid smells assailed her delicate nostrils. Used to an immaculate environment the stench of the berth’s previous occupant was overpowering. A combination of stinky feet, dirty linens, sweat and moldy food made her gag. She refused to start her voyage this way.

“
This is ridiculous” she muttered frustratedly “I can’t travel for weeks in this filth. It’s inconceivable the Captain allows such sloth.”

She walked purposefully to the top deck returning a few minutes later with a pail of water, scrub brushes and a bar of lye soap. It was the best she could find under the circumstances. It would have to do. She spent the next hour vigorously scrubbing the narrow room from top to bottom handing the filthy bed linens to a passing porter using her own to remake the small aperture. It was nothing more than a wooden board hung by chains in the side of the wall with a well-worn straw mattress atop. Made up with fresh sheets and her colorful quilts it looked quite inviting.

The only other furniture in the room was a small dresser nailed to the floor. Boasting six drawers and a cloudy looking mirror it would suffice her undergarments and toiletries. She improvised a hook beside it to hang her dresses shaking out the wrinkles. Re-locking her trunks she placed the key in her reticule knowing better than to leave anything of value in the drawers. The only way to lock her door was from the inside with the wooden plank that fell across two rusty looking bars.

Sitting down once her unpacking was completed Xzan perused the Captain’s passenger list. He had thoughtfully provided names and information about each person on board. It was devised to help people get to know each other by seeing what they had in common. She was embarrassed when she read her own description. Mrs. Xzan Colby. Widow. Age 16. Destination Sweetbriar. Goal to teach school. Cabin 23.

Feeling conspicuous she relaxed as she read about her shipmates. Miss Felicity Stone. Spinster. Age 19. Destination New York. Goal to join her family in the mercantile industry. Cabin 32. Ezra Walton, wife Alma, children Tom12, Erik 9, Jack 8. Destination Anderson Kentucky. Goal to open mill. Cabin 14. The list was long, informative. She counted twelve married couples with children, two without, seven single men, five single women, four orphans, three grandparents traveling with grandchildren, plus twenty two crew.

Four other families were going to or near her own end. The Fenierres, Penningtons, Bedlows and Corns. They would all be in close proximity in the months ahead. She hoped they would all become friends. Especially the Fenierre’s. According to her schedule since a single woman wasn’t allowed to travel alone on a wagon train, she had been assigned to join the family.

She had put up money via her lawyer to purchase half the supplies for the trip, which helped them out as well. She was required to help cook, mend and drive the wagon with Mrs. Fenierre. They were at this moment in cabin 22, right next door. The walls were so thin she could hear them talking, if she strained for the words. She would make it a point to introduce herself to them at dinner. For now she wanted a short nap. Still a bit frail form the loss of so much blood, even after three months of recuperating, she felt weary. The dinner gong would wake her up if she overslept.

*****

He was howling in pain. A wolf’s head perched like a cap on top of his dark head. He held her lifeless body high in his arms raising her to the heaven in agonizing wails. A bird rose from her chest. He stopped crying. It had brown feathers except for it’s head which was pure white. It soared upward, massive, powerful, until it was lost in the heavens. He lowered her slender form to the ground and began wrapping it with ceremonial strips of cloth.

The sound of the dinner bell woke her. She tried to go back to sleep. Longed to comfort him as he had always comforted her in her agony. He was either unaware of her presence or it was a private moment he refused to share.

Gray Wolf sensed her presence. Ignored her. Morning Dew was gone. Her spirit had flown away. All that remained was this empty shell. To be burned, the ashes scattered to the four winds. He felt alone. Desolate. His mate was gone.

He knew the woman was there. He smelled her scent. The one he had never been able to identify. Felt her sympathy as her spirit reached out to him. Then she was gone, as swiftly as she came. Strangely so was his aloneness. He knew they would cross paths soon. Her essence was stronger getting closer every day. Now it was time to let Morning Dew go. Take her remains back to his people so they too could say goodbye to their sister.